


Alternative

by DobraFanfikcja



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: M/M, Other, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobraFanfikcja/pseuds/DobraFanfikcja
Summary: So, that's just a first draft of Thanos/Strange story I am currently writing. Also fans of Strange/Cloak should enjoy first chapters. It's not beta'd yet, any English speaking beta is welcome to help (me is not one). It's just a draft, so read only if you're interested in helping this to become a really good story. Also it is alternate universe, so some things shall be different, though I try to keep it at minimum. It is also movieverse based, ignoring the comics and also ignoring Endgame which I haven't seen and do not wish to see, sorry.
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Cloak of Levitation, Stephen Strange/Thanos
Kudos: 28





	1. The calm between the storms

\- Everything is perfectly stable.  
The Cloak detached iself from Stephen's arms and made a small yet joyous loop in the air in front of the Sorcerer Supreme. Wong said nothing, but Strange was pretty sure he saw satisfaction in those small stern eyes. Strange would bet no other sorcerer ever learned how to thoroughly inspect the whole structure of their realm so quickly. But, of course, said realm would crumble sooner than Wong would compliment him on anything. Not that he particularly needed it. _Of course not_. He certainly does not need anybody to remind him that no one can compare with him. Well, at least no one will be able to given some more time.  
\- Does that mean we can finally eat now or are you going to bury yourself again in books?  
\- Now, now, are those words befitting a librarian?  
\- Is not eating regularly a behaviour befitting a medic?  
Strange couldn't help but smile. These little banters were always lifting his mood between devouring books full of important knowledge and practicing spells that would have been so useful to know when he fought Kaecilius.  
\- At least _thanks to books_ I know what is my primary duty as a Sorcerer Supreme.  
\- I was under impression we've already told you that – replied flatly Wong  
\- Oh, yes, you've told me I am supposed to protect our reality. Never bothered to mention though that maybe there are better methods than just waiting until something breaks in and attacks.  
\- We knew you'd be smart enough to figure that on your own – Wong's face seemed emotionless and serious as always, but Strange by now knew him enough to see a hint of a smirk.  
\- Right. Besides I don't know what is stopping _you_ from eating. I may be the Sorcerer Supreme, but it doesn't mean you need my permission to go shopping.  
\- Money? - answered Wong innocently.  
\- What the hell am I?– Strange rolled his eyes - I've got a Time Stone not a Sorcerer's Stone.  
\- No food then.  
\- For Dormammu's sake, we need to find ourselves some proper source of income...  
Wong chuckled.  
\- A genius like you, I am sure you shall think of something.  
\- ...and why should everything be on me?  
\- You're the Sorcerer Supreme.  
Stephen shook his head rather dramatically.  
\- I thought this wasn't the type of job where I'll have to ponder death of starvation.  
\- Life's full of surprises.  
\- And old guys repeating old cliches.  
In the end it was the same cheap but rather tasty cafeteria round the corner. They really needed to think about money in the future though. For the time being Stephen was much too concentrated on learning as much as he could, so he could keep his world safe and, more importantly, to not embarass himself in front of the other sorcerers ( _You don't know how to use that, do you?_ , Christ, he still would blush at that memory), but sooner or later the stack of money they've found in New York Sanctum would disappear.  
They've eaten their take-outs in silence, both engulfed in their books and then Wong went to his library which allowed Strange to finally have some privacy to do forbidden things he didn't want Wong to ever see. Like using the Time Stone to create a 'copy' of himself that could attack his opponent from behind. The technique just came to his mind when in cafeteria some small boy was enthusiastically relating his rather bored mother some game or show or animation where some hero made hundreds of copies of himself to overwhelm much more powerful enemy. It seemed like a surprisingly good idea. At least a surprisingly good idea as long as Wong would not see him using the Stone again. During months that have passed since Dormammu's summoning Strange realised that caution not to disturb reality was one thing and preparation so that someone else would not crumble it was another, equally important. Last time the only thing that saved them was the Time Stone. No other spells even from most experienced Sorcerers managed to protect their realm. So how could he prepare to fight such unspeakable fiends if he had no practice with the Stone? And he doubt it would matter much if he used it in Mirror Dimension anyway.  
The Cloak stroked his cheek gently. 'Right' he thought irritated, not like he was _all_ alone.  
\- What now? - he asked acidly  
The Cloak floated up and away, corners of the collar pointing the ceiling in what Strange by now knew well enough to be indignant manner.  
\- I _really_ need to work, you know.  
The Cloak shrugged, whirled and left the room. Only to stop in the neighbouring one, right by the door, so that Strange could still see his offended back and to give Stephen one chance to apologise. Stephen was a proud man, but the time he spent with the Cloak taught him well that the whimsical relic could really make his life frustrating if it wanted to. Or, on the other hand, very easy and pleasant, too.  
\- Don't be mad, _honey_ , I really need to practice an _important_ spell.  
The Cloak hung his nonexistent head.  
\- I _promise_ I shall spend some time flying with you, when the night falls.  
Shake of the collar.  
\- ...two hours of flying and one hour of stroking you. - he conceded.  
The Cloak was immediately back by his side, curled one of his rims around his hand and shook it powerfully. The deal was done.  
\- You're one talented negotiator, you know – he joked  
The relic rubbed itself against Strange's body, much like a big red cat. Or rather a skin of a big red cat. He gave it a couple of strokes for good measure and proceeded to practice some more complicated spells that came to his mind and predictably enough the Cloak has left to find itself some more fascinating occupation than watching the spells it has already seen thousands of times during its very long existence.  
Strange, rather pleased with himself, went straight to the Eye of Agamoto, anticipation filling him up as always when he was about to undertake an ambitious and proving task. The stone glinted in his hand even though there was no sunlight in the room. He jumped into the Mirror Dimension and then created a dummy on which both current and 'future' Strange could practice on. He looked at his watch. Now if everything went well in the _future_ there should... _There_. Another Strange appeared on the other side of the doll. Perfect! All this really went well for the time being- then it occured to him. What if his future self doesn't do exactly what he sees him now doing? Would that cause a paradox? Should he memorize everything future Strange does during the practice?  
\- Oh, for fuck's sake, you do have eidetic memory, right? - snapped future Strange impatiently  
\- No wonder nobody likes you Mister Condescending.  
\- It's _Doctor_ Condescending – grinned his other self.

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All in all, it went rather well. The technique proved to be much more complicated and time consuming than he had expected, but it would definitely prove extremely useful in the future. At least as long as he would be able to stand himself and his arrogant comments towards himself, he chuckled internally. Satisfied, he had left the Mirror Dimension only to face his Cloak, which was floating still enough for Strange to know it was worried.  
\- I _need_ to practice with the Stone – he replied to unspoken accusation – You saw very well Dormammu and what he and his lackeys could do. I'd love it if next time we had a better plan than simply dying over and over again, especially since this time he might come prepared for this.  
After a moment of hesitation the Cloak slowly nodded and made a notion of someone heaving a deep sigh.  
\- I don't like it either – lied Strange – but I need to practice all sort of spells and strategies that might prove invaluable in the future when we won't have time to plan.  
The relic pointed quite decisively at the Eye.  
\- Okay, fine, we'll always have the time - answered Strange irritated at pointing out a flaw in _his_ logic – But we might want to be prepared anyway. After all, the Stone doesn't make me exactly immortal, right?  
The Cloak flew to him and wrapped itself rather tightly around Stephen.  
\- I know you won't let that happen – he murmured a bit embarrassed. - Let's fly now, as promised – he changed the subject not exactly smoothly.  
He's never been particularly good in all these tender, touchy-feely moments, when he was supposed to reciprocate the warm feelings someone has shown him. He blamed it on his parents and their strict, distant approach towards their kids. 'Easier to blame them than to improve yourself?' - whispered the tiny voice that used to chastise him when he was a kid, then got quiet when he grew up and decided that no citicism shall apply to him anymore. It seemed to be rearing its head again after saving the world from Dormammu. After all he _did_ make some mistakes back then...  
His thoughts have been cut off abruptly as the Cloak pulled him in the air and rushed towards the Rotunda of Gateways gaining speed with every second.  
\- Slow your turboboost, K.I.T.T., I have received enough complaints about our opprobrious habit of bursting in at precarious speed. - scolded Strange without much hope to be heeded.  
Unsurprisingly the Cloak just shook its collar as if shaking off an annoying fly and gathered even more speed.  
\- I'll make sure to be equally obedient to your wishes, too, my indispensible part of a hero wardrobe  
The Cloak just stroked his cheeks pleasantly.  
\- Good to know you treat me with a respect the Sorcerer Supreme deserves.  
The Cloak just whirled them both happily and shot through one of the gateways and into the Hong Kong Sanctum, this time not even making anyone jump. They whizzed by too quickly for Strange to catch anyone's faces, but he'd bet his handicapped hands there would be yet another lengthy complaint on his Gmail chastising him for behaviour unbefitting of a Sorcerer Supreme tonight. They somehow did not want to believe him when he tried to put all the blame on the Cloak. _'The Sorcerer Supreme must be able to contain his Relic!'_ , yeah, right. Would be much easier if not for the fact that Strange finally managed to enjoy high speeds again after the accident. And the Cloak knew that too, so any discussion was a lost cause.  
They've soared over Hong Kong, the Cloak tightly wrapped around him to protect from icy cold wind striking them on that altitude. The miriades of city lights were streaking away and the cacophony of a conurbation quiesced allowing Strange to take in all the magnificent and overwhelming beauty of a human civilisation. On a night like that, when one could fly high above the metropolis, for a moment far from any worries, it was easy to forget all the downsides of a rapid development and just enjoy the unforgettable view. The Cloak has spent some time circling above Hong Kong, but Strange knew the ultimate destination lied elsewhere. And sure enough the Cloak soon pulled him East, towards the vast darkness that was the sea. First time they did it Strange was surprised. What could be more enjoyable than watching the great city from great height, circling among tall buildings, plummeting towards bustling streets? There was nothing at the sea, aside freighters and ferries and even these the Cloak ignored rushing into the blinding darkness of open waters. But, when they've finally, after a lengthy flight, stopped in the middle of nowhere, suspended between the two vastness of The Unknown – the deep sea and the night sky, he had understood why the Cloak had brought him here. Since then they've been coming here often as if the Cloak wanted to remind them both their place in the Universe. And also, on the starry nights, it was even more beautiful than any city.  
They have floated together in peaceful harmony for some time. Strange's thoughts drifted towards past days, piecing together once again all little things that have happened, all the information he has acquired, all the new knowledge he's devoured. It always surprised him a bit that he actually enjoyed that little pause in his usually fast paced life, that pause the Cloak was giving him. Maybe it was one of these changes that come to people with age as his father used to tell him? When he was younger he would have never indulge himself in _doing nothing_. It was a waste of precious time, just like sleeping, which he hated with passion thinking how much time was lost because of that, just like he hated small talk, _driving slowly_... He sighed. Or was it the confrontation with Dormammu? Standing on the verge of an event that would destroy their whole dimension and kill all humanity and other living here species, dying repeatedly over and over again to stop it... it was hardly a thing that couldn't change a man to some point. Whatever the reason, he started to appreciate more the moment of contemplation and reflexion shared with someone he cared so badly for. Or was that the reason? Not age, not Dormammu, not lessons given to him by the Ancient One, but the fact that he was here with his Cloak, for months now the closest being and probably the only one that cared for him so badly? Well, there was Christine once, she was there for him for such a long time, but he had effectively destroyed this relationship. Well, and no wonder. Looking at all that has transpired between them from her position (the feat that was never easy for him) it was remarkable she had given him so many chances and so much effort she did.  
He shook off the guilt and ache that still dwelled deep inside and redirected his thoughts on his current companion. The Cloak. He guessed it was telling that the human he get along best in all his life was the one that has been changed into magical garment, unable to talk back and not having all that many needs to be catered. It wouldn't stop him when he was monologuing, he usually wouldn't bother him (much) when he was studying, it wouldn't complain about sex, about not going for a date where it wanted, about not celebrating anniversaries, about not thought through gifts and generally about Strange being selfcentered, haughty dick he now strongly suspected he sometimes was. Granted, it could be whimsical and needy, but Strange suspected it was much more because of its boredom than actual problem it had with Strange or world in general, as other his partners had. Comparing to any other the Cloak was so much less time and effort consuming, so much easier to please and never truly angry with him, never truly willing to leave...  
Truly it was telling what kind of a man he was if he get along best with a magical cloak of all beings. He never was big on romanticism and little sweet gestures, but still he wasn't a caveman either. So he placed a light kiss on the tall collar. The Cloak immediately responded with a strong hug.  
\- You're the sweetest thing, my dear flying carpet – he purred affectionately.  
There fell a heavy silence as the Cloak went dangerously still.  
\- You know very well it was a compliment, my love – he added sweetly.  
The Cloak might have been much more lenient than any of his human lovers, but few may they be, it still had its boundaries and rules. He stroke Stephen's cheeks very gently.  
And then he detached itself from the sorcerer.


	2. The only dead thing that smells sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I got some kudos I decided to upload the few chapters I've got done. I promise me one day I'll finish and beta it

Doctor Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, landed on the floor of the New York Sanctum with a thud and dignity. He has gathered himself most graciously, even though no one was watching, ignored all the soring spots that would tomorrow blossom into colourful ecchymoses and headed for his study. He knew very well he still had plenty of time to read some more ancient books or less ancient neurology journals before the Cloak would come after him sulking over the fact that Stephen did not allow proper punishment that would be being caught by the Cloak right above the surface of water and instead he _showed off_ by immediately creating portal to the Sanctum beneath himself. Last time he did that, the Cloak actually made effort to specifically find a book with a word 'show-off' and pointed it with one of its corners.  
Wong peeked inside.  
'Did something fall?'  
'Nope,' answered flatly Strange.  
'Funny, I'd swear I heard a thud.' Wong narrowed his eyes even further  
'Must be old age,' replied Strange serenely  
Wong decided not to dignify that unoriginal gibe with any answer and disappeared back in his library. Strange has fished out the book recounting the past encounters with the legendary race called Timelords who were supposed to be able to travel between universes without the use of any magical artefacts, only by the means of their weird living timemachines that has caught his attention earlier. The book sadly was no scientific work, merely the stories of different people who allegedly has met a Timelord that were put together by some interested in this topic sorcerer. Still it might prove to be a compelling lighter read that could be followed with some research if the topic indeed appeared to be as interesting as it seemed.  
'There is an email from the Hong Kong Sanctum again, Strange!' came Wong's shout.  
'Just ignore it, it'll go away!'  
'You really can't just treat your fellow sorcerers like that! We might need their help in the future!'  
'Right! Cause they were _so goddamn useful_ last time!'  
'Well, we still might need to borrow money from them one day!'  
Strange rolled his eyes.

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The book revealed itself to be less fairy-talish than he dreaded it would be but still less based on actual facts than he hoped for. Most of the stories weren't even told by actual eye-witnesses of any Timelord activity, but by their progeny, sometimes quite far. Still, the author managed to get into his hands some manuscripts written hundreds of years ago, which he had subsequently tested with all means available to him very thoroughly and his conclusion was that indeed these humans had to travel in time and space, since there was no other logical explanation of their knowledge of species from far away planets or modern inventions. The book ended with expression of regret that the author had never managed to get from the Sorcerer Supreme the permission to use the Eye of Agamoto to go back in time in order to verify the stories and meet a Timelord personally (or a sorcerer who thought it fun to mess with people pretending to be one).   
'Well now, that can be rectified now, can't it" smiled smugly Strange.  
He put down the book and looked at the time. It was truly getting late, but he had suspected he still had at least an hour before the Cloak would return moping. He got to know it so well through all these months... was it a year already? He thought about it for a second and it had striken him. _Tomorrow shall be exactly one year since he's met the Cloak during his fight with Kaecillus._ Which also meant it was exactly one year since the Cloak has, in all probability, saved his life. Stephen always had perfect memory for the anniversairies, (he _just sucked at making them enjoyable_ as couple of his exes had put it), so it rather surprised him he had not thought about the date before. But then again it wasn't his typical relationship was it?   
For starters, it managed to last a whole year without me getting dumped, which is in itself most uncanny - he murmured to himself sarcastically.  
Whole year, huh? Stephen was never the biggest enthusiast of reminiscing, but it was hard not to wander back to the very beginning of their companionship on the occasion like that, especially since it has evolved quite a lot since their early days.  
He put down the book, mentally returning to the first months after the bargain with Dormammu and becoming the Sorcerer Supreme.  
There was a lot to learn back then. He thought he had devoured thousands of pages even before Dormammu, but it still was nothing compared to the knowledge that still lied out there, in countless books, the knowledge that might prove indispensible during another attack on their realm. So he read and read and read and then he practiced and experimented with the spells all days in Mirror Dimension. But the knowledge lied not only in books. He would never be considered genius in any field if he barely learned from what has already been written and discovered by someone else. Thus, he absorbed everything that surrounded him from his own experiences and experiments with different dimensions, through observing other Sorcerers and listening to their countless stories (boring however many revealed to be) to analizing available instruments and devices.   
And it appeared that when it came to the lattest, there was nothing more fascinating than the Cloak of Levitation. It didn't take to be a Master in mystic arts to realize how incredibly advanced and intricate spells were needed to create an object like that – self-aware, understanding human language, capable of levitation magic, incredibly resilient both to mechanic tears and unforgiving working of time, creative in helping its Master. It was truly amazing and immediately became center of Strange's attention. Through grasping the nature and 'coding' of the spells that made the Cloak Stephen would be able to learn how to weave most advanced magic, how to create objects powerful and self-sufficient that could aid him in a fight with his future enemies. And obviously help him understand better the nature of magic and reality.   
At least that was the plan. Plans however, as life has already proved him enough times, tended to collide with reality with the power and sturdiness of your average soap bubble. The Cloak revealed to be impenetrable. None of the spells worked on it. He couldn't check its magical structure with analytic spells, he couldn't examine currently active magical formulas, he even couldn't use the Eye of Agamoto on it to rewind it back to the moment of its creation (thank God Wong didn't know about _that_ attempt). Its nature was completely hermetic and obscure to Strange and his abilities.   
Finally, after days of failed experiments on the Cloak, the relic finally took pity on Strange, or maybe simply had finally had enough of the attempts on taking it apart and brought Strange some very old book on Infinity Stones just to tap the title couple of times decisively. Apparently it was created with the power of the Stones and more than one, since the Eye of Agamoto did not manage to affect it. No wonder no ordinary magic would work on it.  
Strange was by then familiar with the stories of the Infinity Stones – the unimaginably powerful objects from the dawn of this universe that could bend reality at the will of their holder. It irritated him immensely however that the available knowledge about them was so deficient. The sanctums, obviously, had very detailed books regarding the Time Stone since it was in possesion of Earth sorcerers and also few books about the Space Stone, known also as the Tesseract, but there was nothing but most general information and stories bordering on legends about the other gems. Beside vague description of their overall power, appearance and some ancient, not sounding very reliable tales about some circle of Masters that were supposed to own them once (but suspiciously conveniently instead of trying to rule the world with such power or at least protect their reality as they should, one day they all just seemed to disappear) there was no data about the exact spectrum of their power, possible spells, precise description of the ways they affected reality or even their whereabouts. One thing however did not disappoint Strange – in every book it was extremely emphatically stressed that the Stones were extremely dangerous and handling even one of them without specifically designed for such purpose device would most likely destroy any happy-go-lucky fool and even with said devices handling more than one at a time might prove fatal. Strange strongly suspected it may have been written out of worry of concentrating too much power in one hand rather than actual worry for potential stone-hunter's good health. He sensed it in abundant use of words like 'most likely', 'probably' or 'might'. 'So the writers of the books either did not know for sure what were the exact conditions of using a stone without proper device or using more than one stone or they did know but preferred to discourage people from experimenting with them' he concluded.  
He did bothered Wong and some other sorcerers about the subject, but dropped it promptly after getting suspicious, wary looks from many of them and a warning from Wong not to undermine his position further.  
'Further?! What do you mean "further"?' demanded Strange, angry and contemptuous. Did they already forget who saved their sorry asses?  
Wong gave him his trademark emotionless stare.  
'No one denies your talents, no one doubts your morality and no one has forgotten your feat,'  
'...but?'  
'You're still young.'  
Strange bristled.  
'It's mere fact,' stated flatly Wong. 'You're young and young Sorcerers often rush for knowledge and power without pondering enough the consequences. Rarely ever there has been a Sorcerer Supreme of your age and there is worry among many you may misuse your power even if bona fide. It has happened before in our history. Your inquiries about the Stones make them concerned that you might be choosing rather dark path. Seeking ultimate power.'  
'Ridiculous.'  
'Anyway, we have one Infinity Stone and no one sane should want to have more than one.'  
'They're just jealous of my abilities and how quickly I've mastered what took them years,' snapped Strange, not convinced at all.  
'They're not jealous, however they do take you for an ass you are.' ended the discussion Wong putting back on his earphones.  
It was worth having it even if only for hearing Wong say word 'ass'.  
So, instead, Strange proceeded to sneak into other sanctums to search for any magically hidden books or scrolls. But there was nothing. Either no one ever managed to get any actual information about other legendary gems or they've made sure to destroy everything concerning them.  
Strange just LOATHED to give up. He didn't want to give up on his hands, he didn't want to give up on Christine, he didn't want to give up to Dormammu. But it seemed there was nothing he could do about the Stones for the time being. Maybe he'd find some clue researching something completely different. It has happened before. So he dived into other fields of magical knowledge leaving both Stones and Cloak's nature be.   
Until the fated night has come.


	3. Both nettles and lilies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggling with English punctuation. And 'the's. And perfect tenses.

Chapter 3 Both nettles and lilies

On the fated night Strange awoke sweaty and aroused, his penis hard and burning with lust planted in him by the vivid xxx-themed dream that befell him. The release never came to him while asleep, for he had for years been deeply ashamed of the contents of his subconscious fantasies. A proud man like him? Man of intelligence, money, professional success and allegedly 'inflated ego' who's been avidly pursued by so many women should never indulge himself in so... self-depreciating, disgusting urges. And, what's more, what would his conservatve father say? But since then the accident happened, the impoverishment happened, the Kamar-Taj happened, the Almost The End of The World happened and suddenly Strange realised it really isn't the biggest of one's problems that one dreams of huge, muscular men taking him fiercely. Still, shadow of the past attitude remained and Strange always, invariably has awoken before reaching orgasm.  
So, still half-asleep, he proceeded to make up for that deficiency manually and reached for his swollen member. The shaking hand irritated him badly but he still managed to get a proper grasp and started intensive massage. Usually all would be nice and dandy very soon, but, maybe because of rather stressing and irritating day he's had, it didn't seem his body wanted to easily grant him release...   
And then, all of a sudden, his blanket decided to get alive and engage in squeezing and crashing his whole body, one of its hems surrounding and pressing his neck, some other part attacking his genitals and other parts of his body. Strange's mind immediately filled up with all the stories about powerful sorcerers murdered in the quiet of night, when they've let their guard down asleep or entertaining themselves with lovers. He did have some protective devices on him, but whoever cursed the blanket and aimed at the very Sorcerer Supreme would be foolish if he didn't do research proper enough to cast on this item spells powerful enough to override known protectives.   
So he kicked and hitted and tried to release his hands enough to procure any useful spell. The fight ended surprisingly quick as the blanket almost immediately released him and floated up and a couple of meters away. Strange immediately created a shield with one hand, quickly casting a reality checking spell to detect where could an enemy sorcerer hide. The blanket tilted its collar as it floated in front of Strange. Collar?  
'FUCKING HELL!' shouted Strange eloquently.   
His mind was a mix of negative emotions – fear and shame – the latter especially strong and always particularly loathed by the proud genius and, as always, it immediately translated those into an emotion he much more preferred – anger. So he did something he was particularly skilled at in all his relationships. He fucked up. To be more precise, he had – literally - kicked the Cloak out of his bedroom shouting some very angry (and embarassed) words.  
He slammed the door with the loudest thud and fell onto his bed. 'What the fucking hell!' still filled his ashamed and indignant mind. He was mad at himself for panicking like that, he was mad at himself for masturbating without checking beforehand if the bloody Cloak wasn't around, he was mad that he somehow triggered some sort of reaction obviously coded into the relic, he was mad he had slept sound enough not to notice the Cloak sneaking between him and his original blanket, he was mad at the bloody creator of the relic who OBVIOUSLY was a FUCKING PERVERT, goddamnit. He fumed like that for some time before he had calmed enough to assess whole situation more objectively.  
When he actually managed to do it he admitted to himself the whole thing wasn't all that unexpected. The Cloak was supposed to protect and help its master. Many sorcerers were killed while asleep - by other sorcerers who managed to sneak into their bedroom, by means of enchanted items (blankets, beds, pillows), by their lovers. So it was quite logical the Cloak would be programmed to cover its Master during the night. After all, very strong spells woven into it made it almost impossible to penetrate the relic with any weapon, even enchanted. Until now only Dormammu managed to destroy the ancient garment. It was just that Strange has never noticed Cloak's overnight presence before. The Cloak must have been lying down when Stephen was already asleep and leaving before he awoke.   
The... 'helping' part was more... unexpected, but still it could count as serving its master. Strange wondered however if it was relic's own decision based on general principle to aid its Master in everything or was it specifically designed to also serve in sexual situations? That would definitely say something about its creator, sheesh. And it also said something about how little Strange knew about the Cloak, which was beyond irritating. He hated using things which mechanics he did not fully understand.

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Next morning passed rather uneventfully with the exception of Cloak not bothering Strange at all.   
'Well, if I were less self-concentrated dick that should have given me a hint' thought Stephen displeasedly, lost in his memories.  
It wasn't until afternoon that he had realised something might be wrong. He was about to leave for yet another meeting with Master Sorcerers, the event he just so couldn't wait for and called for the Cloak.   
It didn't come. The fact in itself was irritating, but wasn't surprising – it wasn't the first nor second time that the Cloak left for who knows where. Strange suspected it was designed to regularly check the area of Sanctum for any possible threats. Weaving this kind of obligation into the relic would be most sensible. But as he was heading towards the Room of Agamoto he noticed the Cloak hanging with other garments on the coat stand as if it was a normal piece of clothing.  
'Come, Cloak!' he demanded outstretching his arm.  
Absolutely nothing happened. Not even a flinch of the material.  
Strange frowned. That has never happened before. The Cloak not always listened to him, granted that, but still there always was a reaction of sorts. If it didn't obey, it was always because it chose to do something else or wanted Strange to do something else. Stephen felt a seed of worry plant itself in his chest. Still the meeting would not wait and this puzzle could. Yet it was at the back of his mind, distractedly, throughout the whole conference.  
By the end of it he already had a couple of theories concerning what exactly could set off such behaviour. Strange has learned that magic, however mystic the name sounded, was very much like programming. You basically forced reality to react in a certain way if certain conditions were met. Sorcerers powerful enough could bend reality to some extent even without help of magical objects or mandalas, just with the power of their extremely precise concentration and will (and of course energy coming from other dimensions used as a necessary fuel as the law of equivalent exchange demanded). But when creating longterm spells or magical objects that were supposed to work independent of its creator existence, you had to write all sort of thaumaturgic algorithms into the item to make sure it would work properly. So, all Strange needed to find was a command or situation that would cancel the currently working algorithm that forced the Cloak to shut down.  
He remembered he did shout something like 'DON'T YOU FUCKING BE TOUCHING ME LIKE THAT AGAIN' - maybe it was interpretated for some reason, like some sloppy writing of the spells, as an order to cease getting near its master? Maybe kicking the Cloak made it interpret him as one of the enemies that clashed with the fact that it has chosen him and resulted in an error? That seemed quite unlikely at the first thought, considering how amazingly complex and intelligent the object seemed to be, but it was the very level of intricacy that could end up with most unexpected errors. Simple things don't break since there isn't much that can break. Complicated objects could be far more delicate and easy to break.   
So, Stephen had got himself a puzzle. A difficult one, since he did not know what spells exactly were used to create the relic and how exactly were they written into the magical garment. He wasn't sure what was the main interface - was the relic reacting more to words or to gestures? Or maybe feelings? The state of mind of its owner? And Stephen loved a good intellectual challenge. The thrill of it had overriden the quiet worry over the fact that he had actually managed to somehow, even if temporarily, break one of his most prized possesions, acquisition of which had always filled him with pride.  
So he dived into working on possible solutions. He had tried all sort of commands that came to his mind, he had tried every possible wording that could cancel his previous 'don't touch me' order, he had tried to verbally reestablish their relation by reminding the Cloak he was the Sorcerer Supreme chosen by the Relic, reminded their past cooperation, he had tried to explain there was no animosity in him, when he had kicked the thing, he had mentioned his future noble plans. He had tried to force the Cloak to start working by wearing it and getting himself in situations that might trigger the Relic to help him. He had tried all sort of spells that might repair the Cloak or awake it or rewind it back in time to the previous condition. In short, he had tried everything that came to his brilliant mind.  
And nothing worked.


End file.
